


Solidarity

by muffin_song



Category: Lonely Werewolf Girl - Martin Millar
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 20:55:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muffin_song/pseuds/muffin_song
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thrix reflects on the state of her love life while in the company of Malveria.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solidarity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cmshaw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmshaw/gifts).



> This is meant to take place between Lonely Werewolf Girl and Curse of the Wolf Girl. I started off this story intending for it to be a bit more slashy, and then decided that it flowed better as a Thrix/Malveria friendship piece. For all that Malveria can be over the top, I wanted to explore why Thrix would be friends with her.
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism are welcome.

For Thrix, Mondays typically operated like clockwork, from the inevitable frantic Monday morning office messages to the equally predictable Monday evening commute traffic.

Unlike the typical young professional, however, Thrix’s Mondays also included a television date with Malveria, Queen of the Hiyasta. While they had never formalized anything, it was understood that Thrix’s Fire Elemental client and friend would materialize in her London apartment every Monday evening for their weekly ritual of watching Japanese fashion shows.

After all, Malveria had never quite been able to perfect a spell that would reliably transmit the television signal into the realm of the Hiyasta. Besides, it was much more entertaining making commentary on the more unfortunate models in the company of a friend, as opposed to sitting alone in one’s living trying to make sense of what exactly the fast-paced Japanese announcer was trying to say about each new fashion design. Language was another problem that sorcery had never seemed to reliably solve, alas.

This week was supposed to deviate from the usual routine. Thrix had told her friend a few days before that she had other engagements this Monday evening, mainly in the form of a date.  (Malveria was entirely too absorbed in her new shoes to pay this deviation from the schedule much heed).

When Thrix attended a party within the fashion industry, she typically brought her assistant Ann along with her. One of Ann’s friends from university, David, was a writer for one of the smaller fashion magazines. Ann had introduced him to Thrix about a year ago and within that time David had more than once rescued her from an awkward conversation with some inebriated senior editor. Thrix found him both sensible and pleasing to the eyes.

She hadn’t been opposed when a few weeks ago he had suggested that maybe they meet at a venue besides industry parties. And while Thrix would never stoop so low as to be excited by the prospect of something as mundane as a first date, even she would have to admit that she was looking forward to choosing a particularly well suited cocktail dress. And maybe even enjoying the company of another human being. Well, another intelligent being, at least, given that Thrix herself hardly fell into the “human” category.

There were other things that ran like clockwork in Thrix’s life, however: One of them was bad luck with all things related to the male sex. Predictably, her date called her a few hours earlier with bad news: there had been a disaster at work, and try as he might he didn’t think he would be able to escape. Could they reschedule for a different time?

Thrix was a practical woman in all matters, and this included being able to extricate herself from situations such as these. Really, in the conversation that followed she thought she had struck an excellent balance between a touch of regret but not sounding too hung up on the whole matter.

Thrix was spared the trouble of determining whether Malveria would still be up for an evening of Japanese fashion shows when she opened the door to her flat, only to find the Fire Elemental queen already there and threatening to set the TV remote on fire if it dared to continue to defy her.  “It’s out of batteries,” Thrix informed her friend as she set down her keys on a table.

“It would dare to be lacking batteries when in my presence???” Malveria demanded.

One important part of being friends with the Queen of the Hiyasta was learning when not to answer particular questions. And given that Thrix herself was often labeled as difficult, it was a quality that she had to respect in her friend, even at Malveria’s more trying moments. A few moments of digging in a cabinet produced replacement batteries, which Thrix tossed to Malveria.

For good measure, Malveria produced flames in her right hand, reducing the old batteries to ash with a satisfied look on her face. Thrix supposed it was probably unwise to burn anything with chemicals in such a manner, but it was another part of being friends with a Fire Elemental that she simply accepted.  “How did you get in, anyway?” she asked, her tone indicating curiosity more than threat. And after all, if there was some supernatural hole in the enchantments she had put in place, it was best to find out from a friend rather than an angry, destructive rival.

“Your landlady was kind enough to let me in. If you are forced to lower yourself to paying ransom to live in your own home, then I suppose you are fortunate enough to have one that will listen to reason.” Thrix made a mental note to check up on her landlady the following morning and make sure she hadn't been saddled with any lasting enchantments.

Malveria inserted the new batteries into the remote, and turned on the tube with a satisfied click. An image popped up on the screen of a jubilant young Japanese woman in a wedding dress, followed by the camera panning to whatever wedding hall the commercial was advertising. The wedding venue was nice enough, but the dress was on the unfortunate side. No single garment should ever have that many sequins at one time.

Thrix headed into the kitchen for wine, more quietly amused than annoyed that even the TV was choosing to remind her of her bad luck with men tonight. When Thrix stepped back and thought about it, she had to laugh at the truth that even a formidable werewolf enchantress couldn’t escape the questions of, ‘So when are you getting married?’ And having werewolves for relatives, some of them were less subtle about it than others.

“Malveria?” she asked when she reappeared in the living room with two glasses of dry white Bordeux.

“Mmm?”

“Have you ever been married?”

“Most certainly not. Although my uncle once forced me into an engagement with a Hiyasta lord of alarming girth.” The last few words rolled off of Malveria’s mouth with distaste.

Thrix raised an eyebrow quizzically as she tried to imagine the situation. Malveria did not seem the type to appreciate being forced into anything, least of all men of alarming girth. “What happened to him?”

“Oh, not to worry, I added him to the list of those to be sacrificed in the volcano the following month.”

“Your uncle or your potential fiancée?”

“Both,” Malveria replied with a satisfied smile.

“So it turned out well in the end then.”

“Oh yes, quite. Which reminds me, how was your date with the human tonight?”

Thrix was unsurprised that this topic came up so quickly. Like clockwork, really. “Non-existent.”

“Did you judge him to be unworthy even before he could order you expensive food?”

“I had no chance to judge him at all. He canceled a few hours beforehand, something about a crisis at work.”

“How rude.  Certainly even humans of the lowest intelligence would realize that dining with someone as fashionable as you is much more important than ‘work.’” Having been queen for so long, on some level Malveria did not understand the concept of slaving away in an office for most of one’s week. She took a sip of wine as she pondered the situation. “I could have him executed if you’d like.”

Thrix shook her head. “I don’t think Ann would appreciate it, and it's hard to come by good assistants these days.” She felt the sudden need to change the subject. “Weren’t you supposed to have an evening out with one of the barons from the next dimension over?”

Malveria’s eyes narrowed, and Thrix could tell that she was consciously trying to not burst into flames and set the couch on fire in the process. “I would rather not speak of it.”

"I would offer to do something about him," said Thrix sympathetically.  "But it might damage the relations between the Hiyasta and werewolves even further."

"That's probably just as well.  And I do need you to continue making me such fantastic dresses."

Both women sat in silence as the fashion program began. It looked like they would be starting off with a segment on new high heels.  Despite the quiet, Thrix felt comfortable. Malveria was familiar, but more importantly, she understood Thrix.

Past all of the fretting about whether her outfit was perfect or fits over shoes being completed on time, Malveria understood what it was to be alone and to not be bothered by the fact, but at the same time feel a constant sense of discomfort that never quite went away. That for all that they were powerful women, they too could be vulnerable sometimes, occasionally even about things besides men. A hard exterior didn’t mean that there was nothing underneath, for all that neither of them would show it.  As much as Thrix pretended to be as steel-hearted as her cousin Dominil, the truth was that she was capable of feeling.  And that included a small sense disappointment over her clockwork setbacks and bad luck with men. Not that she would ever admit it.

As for Malveria, Thrix suspected for all that her friend constantly talked about throwing her (almost-adopted) niece Agrivex into the volcano, there was a reason she never did.  Despite Malveria's constant complaints about the girl, there was a reason why she had spared her from being sacrificed in the first place.  Even a fierce warrior queen had a heart hidden deep beneath it all.

It was all unspoken, of course.  If Thrix were ever to voice these thoughts, she feared this sense of comfort she felt with her friend would somehow be washed away in the awkwardness of spoken word.  Both women were entirely too proud for this kind of thing, after all. Just as their vulnerability united them, so did their pride. Even still, Thrix suspected that Malveria also took silent comfort in this solidarity.

In a world where Thrix could find herself on any evening in a battle to the death with other members of her clan, maybe there were worse things than spending a night in with a good friend.

“Oooh, I do so adore the ones with the buckles!” Malveria cried enthusiastically at the TV screen.

Thrix took another sip of her wine. Indeed, not such a bad way to spend a Monday night after all.


End file.
